


That's Us

by AveryTheTitaniumLady



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Injury, Dark Mark (Harry Potter), Death Eater Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy Angst, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Drarry, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Hurt/Comfort, POV Draco Malfoy, Panic Attacks, SO, Sectumsempra (Harry Potter), Sectumsempra Scars (Harry Potter), Slow Burn, Songfic, Sort Of, Swearing, because theyve lived through a war, but barely, but he is draco's godfather and draco likes him and this is pov draco, draco has a panic attack, i based it on a song thats pretty much it, i guess, im not a snape apologist, in the hospital wing, mild descriptions though, sometimes pov Harry Potter, take that as you will, they all have PTSD, voldemort sucks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24459070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AveryTheTitaniumLady/pseuds/AveryTheTitaniumLady
Summary: Draco is fading away to nothing, barely eating and spending all of his time working on fixing the vanishing cabinet. He feels guilty, and though he doesn't like to admit it, afraid. After the incident with Katie Bell and the cursed necklace, Potter finds him crying in the washroom.It seems as though Draco has reached his tipping point... and no one's quite sure that's a good thing.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy & Lucius Malfoy & Narcissa Black Malfoy, Draco Malfoy & Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley
Comments: 16
Kudos: 109





	1. I shoulda known it wouldn't happen 'cause it wasn't right

**Author's Note:**

> JK Rowling sucks so much. So, so much. But alas, she and Warner Bros own Harry Potter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I shoulda known it wouldn't happen 'cause it wasn't right  
> I shoulda known it 'cause it happens every God damn time"
> 
> CONTENT WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: mentions of blood and injuries, mentions of death and murder, description of a panic attack

Draco strolled into the great hall, his pace leisurely and unhurried. To the outside world, he was cold and effortlessly confident, the icy prince of Slytherin. No one knew how much effort it was to look that way, to appear so unaffected when in reality every breath rattled in his chest. When his hands shook, when his face was paler than normal and sweat trickled down his back. When he felt as if at any moment he could throw up or burst into tears. He was in awe, himself. He was being eaten away by the guilt, yet no one but Potter suspected a thing.

Katie Bell had been to Saint Mungo's. She had been tortured, injured and in pain from a necklace that  _ he  _ had cursed, that  _ he _ had given her, forced her to take so he could get it to Dumbledore. He had only done it because he had to, but was that really an excuse? Did he really have to? Was there something, anything else he could have done? He had already done so much bad, already made so many promises he needed to keep. Plans were in motion, plans that hinged upon him being loyal to the Dark Lord, doing what he needed to do. And he did need to do it, because his mother's life hung in the balance.  _ His _ life hung in the balance. 

There was no other choice. 

Draco was making his way to the Slytherin table when he caught sight of Potter talking to Bell. Potter saw him at the same time, peering over Bell’s shoulder to lock eyes with him. It felt quite suddenly as if the guilt was too much… too much to hide, too much to survive. It crashed down like a tsunami, and it was all Draco could do not to sprint out of the room. As it was, he turned tail and walked as fast as he dared to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, his only sanctuary the past few months.

Ripping his sweater vest off and loosening his tie, chest heaving, he latched onto the edge of the sink and used it to hold himself up. He glanced up at himself, looked into bloodshot eyes, sunken into a gaunt and clammy face. He’d been skipping meals to work on the cabinet, and barely able to stomach anything when he did end up in the great hall at meal time. Perhaps the lack of eating was having more of an effect than he’d thought, because the man in the mirror was unrecognizable. He looked like a ghost. Draco's stomach rolled at the thought, and he splashed his face with water. How had he let this happen? How had Father let this happen? Why had Father left them, let him be marked, followed a madman? Made it so HE was at the command of a madman too? He was wasting away, fading to nothing, and all for what? Some stupid slimy snake with no nose who thought he was better than them? He had nearly killed one of his peers, nearly killed a girl, all for nothing!

No. No, not for nothing.

For Mother. 

Draco sobbed, shoulders jerking forwards as he collapsed onto the ground. His head landed on his arms, hands still gripping tightly at the sink as tears began to stream down his cheeks. 

“Don’t…” came Moaning Myrtle’s voice from somewhere beside him. “Don’t… tell me what’s wrong… I can help you…”

Draco glared sadly at the floor and closed his eyes. “No one can help me. I can’t… I can’t do it. It won’t work. And… and unless I do it soon, he’ll…” He sobbed once more and looked up at her, despair written all over his face. “He says he’ll kill me, Myrtle…”

The door to the washroom slammed into the wall, and Draco jolted around. He was sat on the floor of a ladies room crying to a ghost, with half his uniform tossed to the side and his face blotchy and covered in tears. He looked nothing like the icy prince of Slytherin he was supposed to be. He looked weak and helpless, and needy… and Harry Potter stood in the doorway with his wand drawn. 

He wore the same uniform as Draco, red and gold instead of green and silver of course, and his hair was tousled, leaving his scar on full display. His stance was strong, eyes sharp and steely. He looked prepared to duel, in all honesty, but Draco couldn't even be bothered to grab his wand from its holster. 

Draco looked up at Potter, the saviour of the wizarding world, the epitome of the light, representation of all the good things that side of the war stood for and all of the things his side of the war stood against, and his bottom lip quivered. Potter’s face seemed to soften, and his wand arm lowered a bit. Tears continued to stream down Draco’s face as he stared at the savior, at his eyes that were a green so much nicer than that of the killing curse. He opened his mouth and moved his hand ever so slightly towards Potter. 

"Hel-" 

Chunks of plaster flew to the side, and he slammed back into the sink from the force of the  _ confringo  _ that landed beside him. Draco tried to catch his breath, scrambling to his feet and grabbing his wand to launch something back towards Potter. They wove through the washroom, ducking around stalls and behind toilets, launching hexes back and forth and throwing up a shield charm when necessary. In between spells, he wiped the tears from his face. Potter stood behind the stalls, trying to locate him. Draco ran around the corner, away, as quietly as he could. He thought he had escaped, that he could run out the door and they could pretend this had never happened. 

And then he got hit. 

He was standing in a large puddle in the middle of the floor, from where one of the pipes had been hit with a stray hex. A burning pain sliced across his cheek, and something wet and hot gushed down his face. It spilled over his lips, some falling into his mouth, dropped open in a silent scream. It tasted like copper. Blood. Draco stumbled backwards to the ground, collapsing in the water and groaning as he was slashed at by invisible knives, gashes like the one on his face appearing all across his torso. He grabbed at his chest, could see his white shirt turning red with blood, and Potter's face in the background, wide-eyed with shock. He’d never expected the savior to use a lethal spell, and it seemed the savior hadn’t either. Draco had always thought that when he died, it would be at the hands of the Dark Lord. At least this death would be less painful than that, and quicker too. 

Draco wondered what would happen to the plans, if he died. Who would fix the cabinet, let the Death Eaters in? Who would- who would kill Dumbledore? Perhaps Nott, if no one else… well, it wouldn't be his problem anymore. 

Through rapidly darkening vision, he saw Severus rush into the room with his wand at the ready. His Godfather glared at Potter, and then Draco passed out. 

* * *

He woke up in the hospital wing. Or least that’s where he assumed he was, based on the low quality sheets and barely comfortable bed. You’d think that they’d make a hospital more cosy, really. 

His head pounded something fierce, so he was reluctant to open his eyes. Why did his head hurt? Speaking of, why did it feel like he’d been beat up by a gang of hippogryphs? He could feel a large bandage on his face and it seemed as if his torso was wrapped as well, so he very well could have been for all he knew. It only took a moment for the memories to come flooding back, crying in the bathroom and being found by Potter, and then a duel. A duel that had ended with a spell that he’d thought would kill him. He was almost sad that it hadn’t, when he thought about it. 

Eventually his cottony mouth won out over the headache, and he groggily opened his eyes. The hospital wing was dark, only illuminated by the light from the moon through the window. At a minimum, it had been a few hours since the fight. Draco struggled up to a seated position, wincing with every twinge of pain from the cuts that littered his body, and looked to the bedside table. He very much did not want to have to walk to the washroom or wake up Mrs. Pomfrey for a drink, so luckily there was a cup on the table beside a pitcher. Thank Merlin. 

Just as he attempted to pour himself a drink, he heard a sniffle from behind him. Turning as fast as his injuries allowed, he saw Potter sleeping in a chair on the other side of the bed. Draco froze, blood running cold. What on earth was he doing here? Had he figured out what Draco had done, what he was doing? Had he seen his Dark Mark?

Fuck.

His Dark Mark. 

He was in the hospital and covered with bandages. Someone had to have seen it. Mrs. Pomfrey probably, and she must’ve told Dumbledore. How was he supposed to- supposed to- how was he supposed to kill- 

How could he do what he had to do? How could he do what he needed to, if Dumbledore knew he was a… a Death Eater?

Draco couldn’t breathe. His heart was pounding, felt like it was going to rip right out of his chest and through all of his bandages. His hands began to shake, and the cup slid from his grasp and crashed to the floor, shattering into hundreds of pieces. He couldn’t- he couldn’t feel his fingers, just his heart, beating faster every second. He was going to fail. He had already failed. He hadn’t fucking died, couldn’t even be killed right. His chest rattled and his breath hitched and everything- everything burned. Everything was red hot and static and, and, and- 

“Malfoy?” 

Everything was red hot and static and he wasn’t dead, he wasn’t dead and Merlin it hurt and he couldn’t fucking breathe and he couldn’t feel his fingers and he was going to die a painful, painful death because he had been found out and if the Dark Lord didn’t kill him then he would end up in Azkaban and maybe that would be better but maybe it would be worse and what would Father think and what about Mother fuck what was going to happen to his Mother because he was going to die and he couldn’t feel his fingers, couldn’t feel hands grabbing his shoulders, couldn’t feel the sheets on the hospital bed beneath him, couldn’t- 

“-Malfoy! Look at me, c’mon. Look at me!”

Draco couldn’t look at him because he couldn’t BREATHE! Because his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. His chest- his chest had bandages. Whose chest was his hand on? Whose heart was under his palm, beating nice and slow?

“That’s it, Malfoy. Match my breathing, c’mon. Your name is Draco Malfoy. You’re in Slytherin house. We’re in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. It’s the middle of the night and you’re sitting in a bed. That’s it, you’re okay Draco.”

He looked up from the bed, still gasping for breath, and met Harry’s eyes. He tried to match the rhythm he had set, breathing in and out in tandem with the boy across from him as he continued to ramble off a mix of facts and reassurances. He could feel his heart rate slowing down and suddenly realised how utterly exhausted he was. He felt as if he’d been training with Oliver Wood, all of his limbs like lead. It was taking so much effort just to hold his head up, so he let it fall forwards against Harry’s shoulder. His arms slid from Harry’s chest, winding around his torso as he fully collapsed against the other boy, falling into his lap. He felt Harry’s hands reach around him, almost like he was hugging him. He felt… safe. And with that thought, Draco drifted off to sleep.


	2. Almost thought we could have tried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Almost thought we could've been something  
> Almost thought we could have tried, but  
> It didn't happen so I need you to get out my life"
> 
> Harry's POV, because sometimes it's helpful to see what's going on inside his head *insert inside out meme*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: semi-graphic descriptions of blood & injury, description of a panic attack, internal discussions of death and murder

Harry did not know what to do. He was sitting in one of the awfully uncomfortable hospital chairs with a sleeping Draco Malfoy cradled in his arms. His nemesis, rival, tormentor, bully… they’d never been friends, barely even had a civil conversation before! And yet here he was, helping him through what looked like a panic attack, and rocking him to sleep. How the hell had it come to this? 

Oh right. 

He’d nearly killed him, that’s how. 

He hadn’t meant to, hadn’t known what that spell would do… He had just seen Malfoy in the Great Hall, and he’d looked wretched (as he always did these days), and Harry had been talking to Katie Bell about what had happened, and he’d been thinking about how Malfoy was most definitely a suspect, and then they’d made eye contact and he fled… so Harry followed. 

He’d followed him all the way to the third floor, to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Harry watched as the door swung shut and stood outside for a minute, trying to figure out why Malfoy had gone there. Maybe he had been brewing polyjuice potion like they had done in second year, and had disguised himself to get the necklace to Bell! With that idea bouncing through his head, Harry stormed towards the bathroom. He caught the tail end of a sentence, muffled through the wall. 

“He says he’ll kill me, Myrtle…”

And then the door slammed open, and Malfoy jolted around. 

He looked… he looked as if he’d been crying, his face blotchy and his eyes red. And he’d just said that… that someone was going to kill him? Harry began to lower his wand, was going to ask something, ask if Malfoy was okay, but then Malfoy moved. It looked like he was going for his wand, a hex forming on his tongue, so Harry cast first. 

(He shouldn’t have, because if he’d really been looking, he’d have noticed that Malfoy wasn’t reaching towards his wand, and he’d have heard that Malfoy wasn’t starting to say a hex at all… he had been reaching towards Harry, and the word he was about to say? It sounded a helluva lot like “Help”)

What followed was a duel, both of them moving through the washroom using stalls and toilets as protection. Malfoy had been about to run, and all Harry could think was that he couldn’t let him get away. So he cast the first spell that came to mind, the spell from the half-blood prince’s book.

“Sectumsempra!”

And then Malfoy was bleeding. There was a cut on his face, and another on his chest, and then another, and another, and another- and they just kept on coming as he fell to the ground. Blood poured out of him and joined the pool of water already on the floor. It surrounded him, soaked into his clothes- all Harry could see was blood.

He didn’t remember Snape coming, didn’t remember being led to Dumbledore’s office. He vaguely remembered mumbling, over and over and over. 

“It’s my fault. I’m sorry. I killed him. It’s my fault.”

He didn’t remember going to the hospital wing, walking through the halls, seeing Ron and Hermione. He’s pretty sure he got detention. Should have been expelled, but it seemed that Malfoy had lived. He hadn’t killed him. One second he was watching Malfoy bleed out on the floor of the bathroom, and the next he was sitting in an awful chair, watching him sleep. 

He looked so peaceful when he slept, even with the bandage covering half his face. It was easy to tell he hadn’t been eating enough or getting enough sleep, though. He was skin and bones, pale as the white sheets beneath him. Eventually Harry drifted off to sleep, the visual assurance that Malfoy was alive easing his conscience a bit. 

He was woken a few hours by a loud crash and jolted upright in the chair, reasonably disoriented. Normally when he woke up in the hospital wing it was him in the bed. Malfoy was sitting up with his legs swung over the other side of the cot, staring at Harry with absolute dread in his eyes. 

“Malfoy?”

He looked like he was hyperventilating, and his hands were shaking like mad. He didn’t respond to his name at all. 

“Malfoy, you okay?”

He didn’t reply again, and his eyes drifted away, staring at nothing. His shoulders began to shake and he continued to hyperventilate, his whole body quaking. Harry grabbed his shoulders and squeezed a bit, to see if that would bring him back. It didn’t, but he did turn towards Harry which swung his legs back up onto the bed. 

“Malfoy! Look at me, c’mon. Look at me!”

That didn’t work. Cleary shouting wasn’t working. What did Hermione do for him, when he got like this? She- oh! She had him breathe with her. Okay. He could do that. Harry grabbed Malfoy’s hands, placing them on his chest over his heart.

“Breathe with me Malfoy, match my breathing... “

Harry took some exaggerated breaths, nice and slow like ‘Mione always did. He could see something register in Malfoy’s eyes, so he continued with the deep breaths. Ron wasn’t so good with the breathing tactic, because he had trouble calming his own breaths, but when Harry had a panic attack he would list facts about who he was and where they were, with reassurances in between, until Harry came back. Maybe that would work with Malfoy too?

“That’s it, Malfoy. Match my breathing, c’mon. Your name is Draco Malfoy. You’re a Slytherin. I’m a Gryffindor. We’re in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. It’s probably the middle of the night and you’re sitting on a bed. That’s it, you’re okay Draco.”

Malfoy had started to rouse a bit more when Harry called him Draco, so he continued with it. He met his eyes, and Malfoy’s breathing started to calm. He seemed to deflate when the shaking stopped, and as Harry continued to ramble, his head tipped forward against his shoulder. And then his arms slid around Harry, falling from his chest to hold him in a loose embrace. The only logical course of action seemed to be to hug him back… so that’s what Harry did. 

And now he was sitting in the hospital wing, in the most uncomfortable chair ever, snuggling with Draco Malfoy. 

Merlin’s balls. 

Harry looked down at the boy cradled in his arms. He was made of skin and bones, and his face was incredibly ashen. Harry wasn’t sure if that was due to blood loss or something else. He’d noticed that Draco had been skipping meals lately, almost never in the dining hall, and had thought that maybe he’d been getting the house elves to bring him meals… but looking at him now, it didn’t seem like that was the case. 

Draco shifted in his sleep, letting out a huff of warm air against Harry’s neck. He could see blood starting to soak through the bandage on his face, and all of the guilt from before came flooding back. What did it matter that Draco had been awful to them for years? It mattered plenty, because he’d treated them like dirt and that wasn’t okay at all… and if Harry was right and Draco had been the one to curse Katie, the one to try and poison Dumbledore… If Draco had been the reason Ron had nearly died… Then, well, he was even worse than Harry had thought! But- but Draco didn’t deserve to die, not even though he was an utter prick. 

And if Draco WAS trying to kill Dumbledore, he was doing a right shitty job of it. As the victim of attempted murder many times over, Harry knew what murderous plans looked like, and both poisoned liquor and a cursed necklace were weak attempts at best. Maybe worth being arrested, if he was caught with proof, but not worth dying. He was- Draco really was just a kid. They were both just kids. 

How could Harry have lived with himself if he’d killed someone? If he’d killed Draco? 

Would he be able to kill Voldemort, when the time came? 

He gently ran his fingers across the bandage on the other boy’s cheek and brushed a strand of hair off his forehead. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry Draco, for this… for everything.”

Harry let his hand fall to rest on Draco’s back and resigned himself to a long and uncomfortable night sleeping in a hospital chair. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter, but I didn't want to bore y'all by repeating all the exact same details. There'll probably be one more chapter in Harry's pov, but chapter three is from Draco's. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for the kudos and kind comments, I appreciate it a whole lot and it makes me really happy to know you're enjoying the fic <3

**Author's Note:**

> Throughout writing this fic I was listening to That's Us by Anson Seabra. It's a very good song, and it's what inspired me to write this so check it out if you'd like! This is my first fic in the Harry Potter 'verse so if anything is blatantly incorrect or anyone is super OOC please let me know, I appreciate any and all comments :)
> 
> Check out my tumblrs, @blue-blurbs for writing and @just-a-little-bit-of-sugar for sapphic yearning


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